One Drop
by irene n valley
Summary: A Cursed Knife is given to Russia, and it doesn't take long for the other countries to be effected, starting with the nation no one will notice missing, Canada.   CHAPTER TWO IS UP FINALLY!
1. Chapter 1

**Hello all! A quick word to the wise, my imagination is pretty f*cked up and I feel particularly morbid right now, so if you are faint of heart or just in general a wuss, then run a couple laps, man up, and read on! Sorry, I feel mean in general at the moment, and poor Canada will be my first victim! **

**MWA HA HA HA HA HA HA**

**but in all seriousness, there will be some scary shit here so if you can't handle it, then go watch some My Little Pony or something sissy like that... (oh crap, now I'll have the freaking bronies after me again... bring it on..._bring. it. on.._.)**

**Another Warning: There will be Blood. Lot's and lot's of blood. Maybe not immediately, but soon. (gotta build up the suspense!)**

**Maybe a character death or two, but I will tell you for sure that some of our beloved nations sanity's will be lost in the process of the story,**

**lets see... what else... um... well, nation and human names will be used interchangeably, and... oh right! I don't own Hetalia! **

***grins evilly* So with that out of the way... *eyes glow* enjoy my pretties... **

_Blood._

_One drop... That's all it takes..._

_One drop...One drop..._

"...Kumajirou? Is t-that you?" Canada jumped when the floorboards under him creaked again. He began to tremble uncontrollably. It was completely dark in the small cabin. He had just gotten back from the world meeting, nobody had noticed him, all he wanted was to go to sleep, but a noise interrupted him. He just wanted to find his pet and go to bed. Matthew's mind kept wandering back to a particularly large and scary nation who seemed to notice him earlier... "notice" meaning staring evilly at. But why would _he_ of all people be interested...

"... who are you?" Canada froze up suddenly, his heart not even daring to beat before he sighed when he recognized his pet's small voice.

"I'm Canada, your owner, don't scare me like that..." he picked up the small furry white bundle and buried his face in the baby polar bear's fur.

"Da, nobody wants you to be afraid."

Canada squealed in terror when he saw Russia. The nation towered over him by a full foot, but it felt like more. He had a dark aura swirling around him, his long coat, scarf and light hair fluttered wildly as if he was standing down a vicious storm. He tried to keep the innocent smile he always had, but his violet eyes were widened slightly in some maniac delight, his lips unable to fully close. Indeed, he no longer looked like a nation, but a great beast. Canada, who felt intimidated if someone looked him directly in the eyes*... well, it is safe to assume that "scared out of his wits" wouldn't even begin to cover what he was feeling.

"You're Amerika's bruder, da?"

Canada gulped, and buried his face deeper into the oblivious bear's fur and backed away from the approaching Russian.

"No need to be afraid comrade, I just need your help with something..."

He glided closer. Canada backed up against the wall and squeaked again in surprise and fear

"...won't you help me? I just need you to test something for me..."

His words were meant to be comforting, but they were slurred by the angry force that it took to have the words leave his ragged lips. Canada slid down to the floor, squeezing Kumajirou even tighter. He began to whimper pathetically, wilting under the pure force of the russian.

"...da, I want you to help me be free. If you help, then if something goes wrong, nobody will notice your absence. Nobody would notice if you go messing, although I'm sure the blood would start to smell after a while..."

Canada flat out fainted on the spot. His pale eyes were clenched closed, later they had started to strain under the stress of how wide they were in fear. At some point some tears leaked out, then when Russia mentioned blood, his eyes rolled back in his skull and with a small moan, his limp body sunk further to the ground. Russia calmed down. Now that little Matthew was out of the way, it would make his job much easier.

He took out _The Knife_. He admired _The Knife_. It was given to him as an anonymous gift, it came with a sunflower. He twirled it between his fingers in a loving way, despite all the pain it has caused him. The deep silver metal gleamed dully in the moonlight of the chilly cabin, the blade had a rusty red shine to it from his own blood. Russia looked down to see the unconscious nation to decide how best to carry out the experiment. He let the blade dance lightly over the shivering pale skin of the half transparent nation. Whatever the bears name tried to attack him, but Ivan just causally kicked him to the opposite wall. The loyal pet gave a shudder, then went still, the moonlight illuminating his now blood stained fur. Ivan didn't necessarily want to do this, but since he had no choice, why not have fun with it?

He contemplated where to slice first, when the engraved words on the ancient hilt caught his eye,

"_All It Takes, Is One Drop" _

The large nation smirked, _The Knife_ had a point, there was no need to be messy or wasteful. God knows he had enough of that in the past week. So he just rolled up the arm of his victim's sweater just enough to expose a little skin. He took a calming breath, and carefully sliced open a thin and shallow slit of Canada's arm. He only meant it to be a little nick, but _The Knife _still had a part of him, and it made little Ivan's heart flutter in childish delight at how smoothly _The Knife_ glided through the flesh. Little beads of blood blooming and spreading like little springtime flowers. As soon as Canada'a blood completely stained the gray blade, _The Knife _let go of Russia, and claimed it's new master. Ivan dropped the blade in wonder. It had been so easy, he was free. Free. **Free! **He toke a gulp of air, gasping as if it would would be his lastbreath. After several moments of relishing his freedom, he put _The Knife_ in Matthew's hands to his delight, he unconsciously gripped it in his fist in a confident, aggressive, yet protective way. A little smirk came to Canada's face as he pulled the knife closer to him. Ivan thought it was a pleasant change, the shy smile replaced with a cold smirk and clutching a proper bloody knife instead of a teddy bear wannabe. He wasn't even conscious yet and one could see the change already.

This assured the russian that it had worked. He looked down in jealousy for a moment at the power that the Canadian held, but then shook his head, when thoughts of killing to get it back crossed his mind. That's how he got into this mess. Russia stood up, satisfied and began to leave when a loud and obnoxious voice called out

"Hey you commie bastard! What are you doing here? What have you done to Mattie! Get back here!"

He just strode up to Alfred, smiled, and walked outside and away from the cabin, ignoring the profanity's thrown at him from the outraged American. As much as he wanted to slaughter the man, he had enough killing for now. Plus, he had better ways to celebrate his freedom, most of them involving a hell of a lot of vodka.

Alfred promised himself that next time he would kill the commie bastard, but now he had to be the hero and save Canada! He stopped his train of thoughts right there when he saw his unconscious brother. He rushed up to his side and checked his pulse, his heart was still beating and his breathing was regular, if a bit shallow. He didn't seem hurt besides a long, but shallow cut on his arm. America tried to wake him up. He leaned over to shake his shoulders when suddenly he felt a sharp pain in his side. He looked down in horror to see that fresh blood was soaking through his shirt. He saw the knife sticking in him, and followed, with blurry eyes, up the arm holding it, up to the uncharacteristically vicious expression on his brother's face. Matthew had an unnatural gleam in his eyes. He looked down in childish wonder at the pretty color the blood was making. He subconsciously pocketed the knife and stood up, shoving the whimpering american off with his foot. Alfred didn't, no, couldn't understand what in the hell had come over his little brother. He stood up to try to follow him, but started to collapse from loss of blood and shock. Canada caught him, with the knife, adding another pretty cut to the american's lean shoulders. America couldn't say anything but "why?" repeatedly. Canada sneered cooly at his immature brother. He would never be forgotten again he promised himself. He had to tear his sadistically glittering eyes away from the lovely blood puddling around his brother, he had some work to do. He stroked the knife in his pocket comfortingly. A snow storm had started up since he had gotten home, but he couldn't care less, the swirling winds only served to add to the tingle that was running up and down his spine. He was slightly scared of what happened, but the feeling of confidence and power was so new and exciting that his fear was completely forgotten. He noticed his cut on his arm and froze in his tracks. He never noticed how _pretty_ it was. Before tonight, he would have been squeamish at just the mention of blood, but now... he sat down cross-legged and began to play with the slowly oozing blood. He used it as paint to make pretty pictures in the snow around him and he squealed in delight when he pressed his arm to make it bleed more. After a while, the cold air had numbed his arm enough to slow down the bleeding. He rolled up his sleeve with a pout.

_I guess I'll just have to find some more... _

America lay there on the floor in utter shock. What the hell could have come over Canada? He felt faint and when he tried getting up, he only fell back down again. He took out his cell phone with a groan of pain it took to twist around to take it out of his pocket. He dialed a number and waited impatiently for it to be picked up.

"Hello there git, what do you want..."

"Yo Britain! dude! How's it going..."

"Look, I'm busy right now, so unless you have something to say then..."

"No wait! I actually need your help here..."

"For the last time, I'm refuse to watch another one of your silly horror movies, last time you ended up practically trampling me in your effort to run away..."

"I was trying to protect you from the ghost and be the hero! and no, that's not it this time..."

A sharp shock shot up** America's spine and he gasped in pain as his vision blurred...

"Listen, I'm busy, if you want my attention you should've thought of that before you got your independence..." 

"Pfft, your still hung up on that..."

"I'm hanging up now..."

"NO WAIT! I actually need your help! Canada's gone crazy and stabbed me!"

"Wait, WHAT? Who's Canada?"

"Dude, I don't feel too good..."

"Where are you? Are you alright?"

"Just make sure to protect Canada..."

"Aw bloody hell no! you are not going to die on me..."

"Also, I just wanted to say I r-really do care for you..."

"Shut up! Just tell me what's going on..."

"Goodbye...Britain..."

"...America?"

"..."

"AMERICA!"

"... dude I totally got you!"

"Why you..."

"Chill out dude! I mean I am kinda stabbed and all..."

"When I see you..."

"Ha ha! I wished I could've seen your face..."

"THAT'S IT! I'M COMING OVER THERE TO PERSONALLY KILL YOU MYSELF YOU BLOODY WANKER!"

The line went dead, Alfred hung up his phone with a small smile in place. He knew the only one who would help him would be England. England would only ever come to America's side if he thought he would have something to gain, namely, in this case being the one to personally kill Alfred.

**Don't worry peeps! There will be more blood soon i promise, my pretties! You guys have no clue how much I had to edit out most the bloody parts already, I wanna build up the suspense first *cue ominous music* **

**Have fun sleeping tonight with the thoughts of a psycho russian with a cursed knife coming after you in your head... good luck next time! now Imagine a scary german with a cursed knife! and a oblivious pasta loving italian, whoops! spoiler! oh well! review please and have a nice, none bloody, day! **

_*Rant Warning: _I am not kidding here! Freaking Canadians get uncomfortable if you look them in the eye when speaking! To the rest of the world that's just rude. My personal theory is, blame the moose (because it's alway's the moose's fault...).*cough* because it shows aggression if you stare a moose in the eyes right? so, it stands to reason Canadians, (who as everyone knows, are raised by moose...)

_4 Hours later_

...and that's why the Canadian crossed he road... wait, what was I talking about again? Ha ha! I'm just kidding about the Canadians... I love you all! Plus I live in the midwest, which is close enough to being Canadian anyway, I swear I had a point here... Oh wait! It's me! so off course it doesn't have a point! teehee!

**try saying that ten times fast...


	2. Chapter 2

**HELLO! I'm in a morbid mood again, and guess who going to suffer for that? **

**YOU GUESSED IT! HETALIA CHARACTERS! Mwahaha!**

***cough* anyway...! I don't own hetalia... or a possessed knife despite what you may hear! (I tried explaining to Taylor that I wasn't, in fact, licking "blood" from a "stabby stabby knife"! SO DON'T LISTEN TO HIS LIES!)**

**...there are slight slight SLIGHT unintentional _hints _of yaoi (particularly USUK and GERITA...you're welcome fangirls...) in this chapter that I didn't notice until it was too late... so enjoy it while you can, because I didn't mean to make this some yaoi fic but some fluffy moments came out while I wasn't paying attention... I swear I leave my mind for a minute while my hands type, I come back and POW cute moments appear!... I am shocked and ashamed of myself. **

**...But never fear! This chapter is pretty long by my lazy standards (like seriously, this could be my most i've ever written for a fanfic chapter!) oh! and has a lovely gory ending~**

**oh! I almost forgot to mention that there is a human OC in this chapter, I'm sorry for those of you who think OC's are annoying, I actually am sorry, I swear it is actually important for now, but she will not last long... ;D**

**Now that I have you guys severely questioning my sanity, Enjoy the next chapter of "One Drop"**

_Damn Damn Damn that bloody wanker to hell and back for making me come here in the middle of godforsaken... w-where ever the hell I am..._

England muttered to himself while plowing through the knee high snow. The snowstorm's rough and piercing wind had risen. He had gotten on the next plane to North America and was honestly worried. He had tried to call back the obnoxious american, but only succeeded in hearing his annoying voicemail multiple times (_"HAHA! YOU HAVE REACHED ME, THE HERO, GOOD OL' AMERICA! LEAVE A MESSAGE AFTER THE BEEP! __**B-B-B-B-B-B-B-B-BEEEEEEEEEEEP!**__) _god, he felt like throwing his cellphone at the american's head in compensation for pissing him off so. He looked up to see a solitary log cabin. The door was wide open and the windows were all dark. England's brilliant green eyes widened, _bloody hell, maybe he wasn't joking after all..._ he ran as fast as he could toward the open door, the wind making it creak as it opened even wider for him. He made it to the cabin and shut the heavy door behind him against the vicious winds attempting to uproot the little cabin from the frozen ground. The house was silent for a few moments after the wind seemed to die down a bit. England's ears perked up when he heard a faint whimper. Leaving all sense of practicality and fear behind he ran through the house screaming out America's name. He finally made it to the hallway where America was slouched up against a cold log wall, sitting in a glisten puddle of his own blood. England ran up to his ex-colony and shook him by the shoulders to wake him up. America's blue eyes fluttered open.

"yo...Iggy, took you long enough..."

England took a deep breath to calm his strained nerves down a bit and he answered

"What in God's name have you gotten yourself into now?"

He sighed and knelt down beside him, taking off his heavy jacket and light woolen sweater vest. He tied up the knife wound in America's stomach with his vest and continued to scold him

"...I honestly can't imagine what you could have done this time to piss someone off... you just thank your lucky stars that that I got here in time...you would be dead ten times over if it wasn't for not being mortal in the same way..."

England fell silent for a bit, frowning at the blood that was already soaking through the makeshift bandage. America grabbed his hand and looked up into Britain's eyes, for once refraining to snicker at Iggy's large eyebrows. America weakly grinned and just said

"Ha, don't stop there... I'm sure you have a lot of other things to scold me on, even though you're making me feel like a kid again, I still..." he paused and settled down again, and mumbled "just please don't stop talking... I like the sound of your voice..."

England kindly smiled down to blue sparkling eyes and sighed yet again. It was times like this that made it hard for England to forget that America was all grown up and didn't need him anymore.

"I believe it is your turn to talk actually. Please, tell me everything that happened."

"Well, Canada was acting weird earlier, so I wanted to drop by and see what's up. By the time I got here, the damn commie bastard was heading out. I saw Mattie passed out and I ran over to help, but he freaking stabbed me and walked away! It was a little trippy actually...it was almost like he was possessed or something! DO YOU THINK IT WAS GHOSTS?"

After England calmed him down with a smack to the face and about ten minutes more of explaining, they both decided the best course of action was to call the rest of the nations to warn them about Canada. Not to mention to question Russia severely about the freaky knife thing...

***_)(-)_\(*)/_(-)(_***

"Ve~ Germany! But they said it was super important..."

"If it vas zat important, zen zey should have dealt vith it vhen ve vere at zee meeting earlier..."

"Aww Germany... does your head still hurt~?"

"...ja, a bit..."

Italy jumped onto Germany's lap and nuzzled his face into the tall blonde's chest. Germany blushed, he knew he should be used to it by now, but he couldn't help feeling embarrassed every time Italy got...close, especially when a certain unwanted ex-nation was hanging around...

"Eh West? You can stay back and rest Keseseses, I can fill in for yah!"

Prussia annoyed him repeatedly into submission, annnnnd promised to bring back some good beer when he got back, so Germany gave up without too much of a fight, his headache was pretty bad, and he wasn't too eager to get back in the same room with a bunch of childish bickering nations. He finally gave in and let Prussia go in his place. As soon as both Italy and Prussia left the room, Germany's headache almost completely evaporated. He made some wurst to eat and went to bed.

***_)(-)_\(*)/_(-)(_***

"Ve~ hey there America! Whatcha doing away out here?"

"... I'm not America."

"Oh, I'm so sorry, you look-"

"...I know... But I am Canada."

"Ve~Were you at the meeting, 'cause America called us to warn us about his crazy brother..."

"Oh he did, eh?"

"Ve~ you need to be very careful..."

"Oh, I will..."

"Wha... W-w-wait? What-a are you doing with that knife... WAIT! Stop! Germany help me help me! HELP ME! HEL-"

***_)(-)_\(*)/_(-)(_***

Germany woke up later then usual the next morning. He was surprised Italy wasn't in bed with him. He jumped up and searched his entire house. Italy hadn't come back from the meeting last night yet. He walked over to the side table with the phone. Germany hesitated dialing the number, but he had to double check

"Gah What in the hell do you want potato bastard?"

"Nice to hear from you too Romano..."

"Just cut the crap and get to the point."

"I vanted to know if Feli was..."

"YOU LOST MY BABY BROTHER! CHICHI! THAT'S IT! YOU'RE SOOOOOO GETTING IT POTATO BASTARD!"

Germany set the phone back down on the table after Romano hung up. Germany started pacing across the worn carpet. Italy's fine, Italy's fine, Italy. Is. Fine.

Germany tried to convince himself, but was failing. Miserably. He tried to find a reasonable explanation for his disappearance. He had known the nation long enough to know that if he wasn't there to look after him every second, the cheery Italian would get into some kind of trouble. Germany heard the doorbell ring and the shrill dinging reminded him of his splitting headache. He ignored it completely as he raced to the door, thinking that it might have been Italy. He threw open the door and for a moment thought it w_as_ Italy, but a second look confirmed that it was instead a very pretty Italian girl in his doorway instead. She looked like a female version of Italy right down to the silly curl sticking up out of her caramel-copper hair. She opened her hazel eyes in surprise at the large scary looking German, she then shut her eyes and gave a cheery grin and asked in a musical Italian accent

"Ciao! Are you Ludwig?"

It took Germany a moment to get over how similar she looked to his precious Italy, he just shrugged it off and assumed that maybe all Italians must look alike or something. He cleared his scrambled mind and responded after a couple moments

"Ja, I am Ger-, ah, Ludwig..."

He restrained from face-palming at almost uncharacteristically giving himself away, but the cheery Italian just continued to smile and said

"Oh! Thank-a you! I'm Felisa, Feliciano's friend! I got a strange message from him to bring this package to you..."

She handed a small package that Germany had not noticed she was holding. He took it warily, his soldier instinct telling him to be careful with it. He began unwrapping it cautiously, and found a bloody knife with a note. Germany's eyes widened slightly at the strange and ominous delivery. Based on the Italian girl's cheery expression, she had no clue what she had brought. Felisa started humming some cheery tune while she waited patiently for the German to invite her inside. Germany felt himself pale slightly when he read the contents of the letter, which was indeed in Italy's handwriting...

_Dear Doitsu!_

_I am super sorry, but I might be away for awhile. _

_Don't worry! If it all goes right, I can be the one to save you this time, even if it's kind of scary...not even my white flag is helping...!_

_You are a great friend! I hope you feel better soon, I sent another friend of mine to take care of you until I come back!_

_your alley and bestest friend,_

_Veneziano Italy~_

_P.S: The knife is super duper important! Keep it safe! _

The note only served to confuse Germany even more instead of explain where the hell his Italy was. He was even more worried about his friend now. It took him a moment to notice that the pretty Italian girl was nowhere in sight. He sighed in relief and went back inside his house only to smell a wonderful odor coming from the kitchen. It made his heart ache to smell the familiar scent of pasta when his Italy wasn't around. He went into the kitchen and saw that instead of going home like he'd thought, the Italian girl had gone into his kitchen and began making pasta. His instinct took over and he grabbed a cloth to begin cleaning up after the Italian like he would do whenever Italy was cooking, then he remembered that it was a total stranger in his house. He barely restrained from pulling out a gun and 'requesting' her to leave his house immediately. He took a calming breath and asked as politely as he could

"...Vhat do you think you are you doing?"

She looked up from the pasta pot and smiled

"Feli told me to stay and take care of you for him until you get better~"

"Zat isn't necessary... vait, did you say 'told'? I thought you said he sent a message... did you speak with Feliciano?"

She widened her eyes, he face betraying guilt and shook her head quickly and said

"I am sorry! I meant ah... he sent me a note too?"

Germany knew she was lying and it took every bit of his self-control to retrain from demanding where his Italy was, it hurt that Italy seemingly trusted this strange girl more then himself, but his headache had come back and he had begun to feel sick and tired, too tired to deal with the Italian. Italy must have a good reason to have asked Felisa to lie to him, so he just said

"Vhatever... just don't make too big of a mess... I have some paperwork to do..."

The pretty girl run up to him and tugged on his sleeve and began dragging him to his room

"Nonsense! You are sick! I'll make some yummy pasta for you and you can go right back to sleep..."

Germany didn't like the idea of having a stranger in his house in the first place, much less that stranger ordering him around or 'taking care of him'. Nevertheless he allowed the small girl to lead him to his own bedroom and tuck him in like some child. She left him after kissing his forehead and turning off the lights. Germany just lay there stunned for a few moments before he leapt out of bed with a growl. His tired body protested, but he stormed out of his room preparing to tell off the invader but when he got to the kitchen, he was hit with a wave of longing. He saw Felisa singing some little Italian song while cooking pasta and he was reminded so much of HIS Italy. She looked identical from the back, even with the flowing yellow dress on she looked enough like Italy to give Germany the strong urge to run up and hug her and never let go. This, in retrospect he figured was just because his tired and sick mind was just playing some odd tricks on him.

He sighed, and walked back into the living room, deciding to leave the Italian to her cooking. He walked past the sofa, but a paper parcel caught his eyes. He stopped and walked back to see Italy's strange message and even stranger knife. Germany saw the weapon's dull gleam from under the ripped paper and noticed an odd rusty hue. His eyebrows knitted in a his usual serious expression and he sat down on the sofa beside the package and took out the knife and looked at it strangely. He saw a dried red coating on it and from his many year of experience on the battlefield immediately recognized it as blood. There was something _wrong _with the knife and Germany knew it, yet he had the unexplainable fascination with it. He picked it up gingerly and examined it. He walked back into the kitchen with the knife in his hand and turned on the water in the sink and began to wash off the dried blood. He could smell the almost done pasta as he cleaned the knife of all of the blood until it was bright enough to reflect as well as a mirror.

He held the knife up and turned it over to make sure it was perfectly clean when Felisa tapped him on the shoulder. Germany had completely forgotten that she was there, he jumped slightly in surprise and cut the flesh of his palm on the clean edge. He gave a jolt as the Italian was chatting happily about the super yummy pasta being ready, he looked down strangely at the beads of blood welling up in his palm. Germany gave shudder, then a quirky, deranged smile rose to his pale face. He clenched his bleeding hand around the warm hilt of the knife, whose metal was already being dyed a bright red from his blood. Germany turned around to face Felisa. She dropped her plate of pasta, shattering the china dish and splattering blood-red tomato sauce over the white tiles and up the legs of Germany's pants and her own dress. She took one look at the german and her Italian instincts told her to run, run like she had never run before and never look back, but she never did know when to listen to her inner sense of reason...

"Oh! I'm sorry Mr. Ludwig... I'll clean this up, you can dish up some more dinner for yourself while I finish with this..."

She continued nervously chatting rapidly as she grabbed one of the kitchen towels to clean up the spilt pasta sauce. However, Germany roughly grabbed onto her arm, and looked into her hazel eyes with some inhuman emotion. She tried tugging her arm away and when that didn't work, she began begging and pleading for mercy. Germany looked thoughtful at her, then scowled and hit her across the face. He gave an animalistic growl and thought vicious thoughts... _'How dare she cry? How dare she look so scared out of Italy's, HIS Italy's eyes?'_

_Well, he'd have to fix that...with the help of '_The Knife'


End file.
